The Invergence of the Insurgence
by The Symphonic Pen
Summary: Genocide is a great tool for the powerful. It breaks the mind-sets of the people it's brought upon. However, the powerful need worry. Not all soldiers bay for blood. Not all soldiers agree. A story of a Commander seeking the invergence of the Empire.
1. Chapter 1

"They never taught us that genocide is what's needed to pacify a peaceful race at the Academy..."

This was the primary thought that wafted through the mind of the First Officer of the Tartan Patrol Cruiser _Relentless_, Commander Leon Tiberian. An unassuming officer at first glance, with his naturally pristine uniform, military-styled hair, and being only of six feet, one inch; though people quickly figured out that this officer has more of a mind than most others (naturally through battlefield simulation).

Leon was currently standing to the right of his commanding officer, Captain Ryckel Finteris, and looking out onto the gray wasteland that used to be known as, the somewhat vibrant, Taral IV.

What used to be fields of agricultural products had been turned to dust from numerous burnings and trooper marches.

What used to be vibrant, purple-capped mountain ranges were now but shadows of their former glory; cracked to such a point that one new to the planet would not know if they were a group of deformed hills.

And what used to be a thriving community of Humans, Twi'Leks and numerous other species has transformed into a war-torn, urban battlefield where an execution in the street has become the norm.

Leon hated it. The air tasted like burnt ash and ozone while smelling of infected blood. The smooth concrete that he had marveled at not two days previously had turned coarse from constant blaster and other projectile-throwing fire. Blood was almost everywhere you look; in the streets, on this windowsill, in that landspeeder, hell it was on that troopers' armor. One did not have to work hard to hear the screams of those awaiting the burning sensation that signified death by blaster, nor the pulse of a repeating E-11 mounted carbine, or the crack of a rifle as an Imperial sharpshooter made sure that the proper punishment for a traitor was brought to completion.

Don't get Leon wrong. He felt that if one were to swear to a cause, then said person is honor-bound to support that cause. If that cause is to be absolutely loyal to the Empire, than one should understand that harboring fugitives is a direct ticket to the gallows. He felt that this, an invasion of a predominantly loyal world of the Empire to kill a half-dozen usurpers, could have been politically correct at any rate. Land a couple battalions, have them search the settlements. If the people are stubborn, land a couple All Terrain Armored Transports (AT-ST's) for intimidation purposes. That'll do.

But this...

This was an absolute slaughter, and all to find six people; one of which, I might add, is still missing, thought the melancholy commander.

Most of these people were innocent, but Leon would do his duty of supervising this. Until the final rebel was found, the 234th Corulag would remain to... "pacify" the people in an effort to stop potential rebels from being born. Leon would remain until said duty had been completed, while Captain Finteris would soon venture back to the Relentless.

Captain Finteris. Now that's someone whom you'd call zealous about the empire. The man simply could not buy more into the Emperor's plan for a "more pure" galaxy. Finteris would even snap at fellow Imperial soldiers if they were speaking even the tiniest of ills about the Emperor. Some say he's mad, some say he's an idiot, some say he's a great Imperial.

Some dissenter's say he's all three.

Regardless, he was Leon's commanding officer, and Commander Tiberian knew the respect that was due via the chain of command.

Even if he may be a half-mad, idiotic git...

Finteris was wearing the same uniform as Leon, though obviously with a few more awards and the addition of the noticeable rank of captain on his shoulders, as well as on his command cylinders. His hair was more gray than Leon's, most likely by a margin of at least twenty years, and he has maddeningly odd Dark-violet eyes. The rumor of madness may have been further perpetuated by his eye-brows being far above their normal resting spot over his eyes.

"...Leon...Leon...Leon dammit answer me!" Finteris had been yelling at his second-in-command for a while now.

Leon, losing the glazed look in his eye, took stock of his situation, an apologized, "My apologies, Captain. My mid was on the, well..."

"What boy?"

Leon felt a spark of anger at that quip, but quickly controlled himself. He was the youngest commander of a ship in the Navy in the history of the Empire. Most the men in his position were fifteen years older than he. "The invasion, sir."

"Ah, yes. It's good to know these insurgent bastards 'ill be dead by night's end, ain't it boy?" And with that question, the oddly-accented Captain Finteris left the windowsill they were both standing at and began to head to the atrium of the building they were presiding in.

Being the original area from where governmental functions were carried out on Taral IV, it now functioned as the primary area from where the Empire coordinated its remaining assault on the planet while also serving as a military hospital in the Eastern Quarter. Two problems arose from this. One: it gave any potential "patriot" the ability to put the empire's military coordination into disarray with the simple push of a button and the will of a bomb-strapped alien. Two: the vulgar odor of blood and dirt, along with their sterile-smelling companions antibiotics and fermented water, pervaded the entire stronghold, making those with weaker stomachs lose themselves.

I finally caught up to Finteris. "What do you mean by that Captain?"

We had passed through the open doorway and were now situated on the front steps. The steps themselves were originally meant to awe the casual civilian as they gazed upon an even grander building. Now they were dilapidated; stones were missing here and there, with some being completely pulverized from blaster fire, while others had holes bored into them from slug-throwing weapons. The grey sky further annunciated the hopelessness this urban environment presented. No longer were their colors or festivities. There was but war, and the spoils taken.

The captain then answered, "We found the last rebel. Idiot was tryin' to blow up the headquarters with his own body and a crap-ton of detonators."

Leon immediately felt relief. Both he and the troops could finally get off this barren hell and move on. "So when does that mean the troops will be leaving?"

"Three days, and that's if no idiot decides to bring out his father's gun and go on a killin' spree..."

The young commander than noticed that he had been following Ryckel through a number of streets until they had arrived at what remained of the nature park after it was torched, otherwise known as the waiting room for the gallows.

Leon looked to his right where a group of men, women, and children were up against a ferrocrete wall, and were against said treatment, to an extent.

"Let us go! We have been nothing but loyal imperial citizen's! Why would you do this?" One of the women shrieked.

"You have been charged guilty of consorting with known conspirators against the empire. Because of this, under Imperial Code 2246-871 your right to legal council has been suspended and you will be executed." the sergeant-at-arms read off his arm's tech re-out which promptly spurted back into the device that had previously brought it out.

"You would kill children?" One of the men managed to say over the screaming.

"...Ready!" The sergeant-at-arms raised his hand.

"Aim!" The sergeant-at-arms then violently brought his hand down in a chopping form.

"Fire!" Both blaster bolt and bullet shell rocketed out and impacted upon the defense-less citizens.

Leon turned his eyes before the blood had been spilled and just hurried forward to catch up to Captain Finteris, though he did hear the impact of bullet on flesh, and the sound of a woman's last words, "Please...Live...Live...for me...Marron..."

At that, Leon hurried forward where he finally caught sight of the captain, all the while noticing the bloodied, white armor of the Master sergeant next to him.

"Ah, captain! You've finally arrived! I'm Master Sergeant Zarik LeRou. Operating number: 0153987. Welcome to Faith's Edge!" The recently named Sergeant LeRou told. He was standing at a parade-rest though he seemed a little belligerent in his stance.

"Thank you, sergeant. How's the camp today?" The captain queried.

"Nothing much to report, besides the rebel of course. We got a new shipment from our troops at the outlying settlements. Out Inquisitors are busy going through them for information. The one's that have given information about the rebels are usually just put in a detention block on the north side of town. The ones that don't, well, let's just say Palpatine's dogs 'nip' at 'em a little bit..." With that, Zarik let out a harrowing laugh that chilled my bones.

Finteris was obviously not amused thought. "Learn to watch your tongue about the emperor boy or Ill bolt it shut with a blaster-bolt to the brain pan! Understood?"

Zarik went pale, understandably. "Ye-Ye-Yes, sir!"

Finteris smiled. "Excellent, now where is this rebel of theirs so we can finally be done with this damnable planet?"

"Ah, yes he's right over here sir. We have all the information from him, or so the Inquisitors say." With that Zarik led both Leon and the captain to a square in the middle of camp where a man lay on two pieces of wood propped up together in the shape of a cross.

"That's our rebel? Why is he in the center of camp?" I asked, albeit naively.

"Aye, that's our rebel, commander. He said he was to lead the people of Taral IV against us so as to end our 'Tyrannical rule of a innocent planet'," At that, Sergeant LeRou let out a loud laugh. "So we decided to prop him up as he wanted, the center of attention!"

"Alright, alright that's enough." Finteris growled out. "LeRou, kill 'im."

At that, Zarik looked a bit ashamed. "Sorry sir, but I've fulfilled my quota for the day. I cannot in good conscience do such a thing."

Every imperial enlisted men or officer was only allowed a select quota of unarmed people they could kill on a any given day.

Finteris sighed. "Well, that's pitiful. You're so bloodthirsty as to kill two-hundred people before it's even noon? Ah, nevermind. Go play with one of the females. Tiberian, you kill 'em."

At that, Leon's blood froze. Was the captain ordering him to...execute someone? Leon had killed before, but that was on the battlefield, and pirates at that. It isn't an unarmed man who was originally an imperial citizen.

Leon looked at the rebel being crucified. It seemed he realized who his executioner would be. However, instead of being deathly scared of being executed on the spot, he only looked downcast at the turn of events around him. He looked right and left, spotted the people he and a group of friends had led to oblivion, and looked even more downcast. Leon had thought rebels were supposed to be heartless bastards bent on the destruction of the empire, not caring for its citizens, however fallen they may be.

Leon then pulled his side-arm, a imperial-issue D-28. Just a simple six-inches in length, four in height, and two in width; it was a weapon issued normally to scout troopers, but Leon had been forced to take it due to a massive shortage of weapons at the armory (obviously due to the soldiers acquiring their weapons for the invasion).

Captain Finteris obviously thought it wouldn't get the job done, either. "Give me that damn pea-shooter. When I ask you to kill insects, you pick this up. When killing traitorous bastards, you get a better gun. Understood?"

I sighed and said quietly, "Yes, sir."

He pulled out his own side-arm, "Here, use this. It's an EL-45. You'll get one issued to you if you make captain."

Side-arm? More like tiny shotgun. It was a little less than a foot long with one extremely large barrel and a revolving case which I noticed fired out bullet-slug ammunition, and incredibly large ones at that.

Leon walked forward twelve steps until he was but a pace away from the crucified prisoner. There, Leon took the safety off and aimed it at the rebel's head. However, there he hesitated, and the rebel looked up. He seemed confused that his head had not been blown off yet. He looked deep into Leon's eyes, and apparently saw something that he had not been expecting. He smiled sadly and stated,  
>"So not all are monsters, eh? That's good."<p>

Leon was understandably confused. "What the hell do you mean, rebel?"

The rebel just looked up. "If I am to die today by an imperial, I would rather it be you; one whose sense of morality has not been destroyed. So please," He placed his forehead forward onto the end of the barrel. "Be my executioner."

Leon just looked on, but in that moment he felt a little different. He grasped the gun a little bit tighter and with more confidence he said, "You have much honor to face death this way. May I know your name?"

The rebel smiled a true smile, "I am Marron, Son of Fallon Vorn. May I know the name of my executioner?"

"Of course." Leon re-span the revolving ammunition chamber on the weapon. "My name..." He then re-cocked the gun. "Is Leon Tiberian."

As he was past the point of no-return of firing the pistol, the rebel said one last thing.

"And you are the Invergence of the Insurgence."


	2. Chapter 2

"We have unidentified vessels on course for Terroc VII."

"Acknowledged. Helm, plot a course for us to intercept them at twenty kilometers from the local port."

"Aye, sir. Plotting course at 882-403."

"Raise weapons, sir?"

"We are an imperial ship, ensign; a star destroyer at that. No one in this alien-infested galaxy can defeat us."

Frailty is a fault that most humans subscribe themselves too. It would mean their preconceived notions of being indomitable would be proven false. There is something else humanity does not accept.

The actuality of being wrong.

"Sir! Unidentified vessels have just released their IFF codes. Their Insurgents!"

"Oh dear God, they're opening fire!"

It is that which makes them weak. Their lack of understanding that a no-win scenario truly means 'unwinnable'.

"Shields down to 67 percent!"

"Starboard gun batteries still unresponsive."

Though to be fair to humanity, they do think better when under duress.

"Begin spinning maneuver at 180 degrees. Get our port guns to bear on the bastards!"

"What about our starboard guns, sir?"

"Send emergency teams to gunnery and fix whatever the hell went wrong. I need those damn turbolasers operational!"

"Torpedo inbound!"

Through not accepting their frailty, humanity thoughtlessly took on the notion of indomitability, which does work to their advantage. From time-to-time.

"Hostile cruiser is drifting. She won't be bothering us again."

Though most times it forges a false 'bubble of invincibility'.

"Deck 24 is compromised! We are venting atmosphere! REPEAT: venting atmosphere!"

A bubble that is shortly 'popped'.

"Secondary shields are at 54 percent. Hull integrity at 78 percent."

"Sir! We are going to die if we do not leave this thrice-damned battlefield!"

Some humans need only an extreme experience to change their mind-sets to a more, shall we say, accepting one.

"Steady your hearts men! You are worth twice that of those alien bastards! You are Men of the Imperial Navy, now act as such!

Some, while truly inspiring, are quite foolish,

"You are invincible!

Petty,

"You are indomitable!

Vulnerable,

"And you are no tri-eyed, alien whore! You are imperials!"

And xenophobic. Quite the amassing of adjectives humanity has accrued, have they not?

"Back to your stations, men! We have aliens to slaughter..."

The bubble has returned.

"Enemy fighters on attack vector for the command tower! They're launching torpedoes!"

"All hands, brace for impact! Raise the blast doors to the front viewing screen!"

And...

"(cough) (cough)Lieutenant Teresel, status report!"

"Teresel's dead, sir! The control panels inner workings impaled her! Dear God, it's...it's...it's awful!"

"(cough) Spill your stomach at another moment ensign. Now, give me a bloody status report!"

"...Yes, sir. Shields have completely failed. All gun batteries are either nonoperational or destroyed. We're venting atmosphere in multiple sections of the ship. Shielding is failing to cover the punctures in the hull. Engines are destroyed, and I think this flashing text means we have failing life-support."

"You think?"

"Sir, there's a whole bunch of broken shit over the command console, as well as the fact the console is flickering from the lack of constant power going through the power conduits! With all due respect, I think it's pretty good that I can see that much."

"Can we enter hyperpace?"

"With no engines, multiple punctures in the hull, and, most likely, loss of oxygen within the next couple of hours, Hyperspace could expedite our death!"

"...Well, it looks as if we have no other option. Signal our surrender, ensign. Can't believe I'm surrendering to these wretches..."

"...Sir! They've stopped firing, but...What the hell! They're hailing us! Coming on audio!"

"So. The brave men of the Empire are surrendering to thrice-damned insurgents such as I. I am touched, truly. I think I've shed an actual tear!"

"Give me your name rebel so that I may know the name of the alien that I'll next throttle!"

"Hahahahahahahahaha. Hahahahahahahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You are truly one of the indoctrinated of the Empire. Hahahahahaha! It's quite hilarious! Come now! You must now fall for the fallacy that there are only Insurgent aliens. There are some humans that have broken free of the mould of xenophobia your precious Emperor preaches. Hahahahahahahaha. It's what makes it so funny! Your truly amazing gulibility!"

"Your name, wretch! Give me your name!"

"What's in a name, captain? What part of the name gives you power over the person? Does it give you the right to kill a man? I sincerely doubt that. Your emperor proved on Taral IV and other such places that genocide can be committed without the lack of familiarity a name provides.

"Regardless, we've tarried too long. Fleet officer, load torpedoes. Target their engineering section."

"What! You lawless deviants would fire on ship that has surrendered?"

"We forsook our government the day they thought they could commit genocide for six people. Obviously the law does not apply in this new regime. Besides, what's wrong with adding a thousand corrupt people to the gallows?"

"Wait! Wait!"

"Say hello to my son, would you? One of your imperial 'brothers' executed him. Ready?"

"Torpedo launch, imminent!"

"Ensign plot a blind course through hyperspace, then execute it!"

"What?"

"Fire!"

"Do it, Ensign!"

"Impact imminent."

...The bubble is popped.

'Tis a remarkable facet of humanity, most likely brought about due to the majority of their species not accepting frailty. The facet is clinging to a life with a death-grip no other species can manage with such fervor. Most times, it saves one from completely falling into the abyss of total devastation.

However, some people prefer to fall. Why? Because to fall means to break apart the previous life, and embrace a new one. A change. Invergence.

Invergence. What is invergence? Invergence is change; it is evolution. Evolution from one biome to another; from one stage of humanity to another; from one mind-set to another; from one government to another...

The tale you are about to experience is not one of fairies, Gods, demons, angels, or mythical warriors with pretty swords. It is about a man; a man, who on a war-torn planet ridden with the blood of innocents, fell into the abyss.

He had killed a man.

Not through revenge or for petty enjoyment, but because the man asked him too.

This action, coupled with what the fallen man had said before, led him to accept his frailty. He has seen what his government could do; had seen how wrong the local populace were in thinking themselves completely indomitable when holding enemies-of-the-state willingly. It led him, unknowingly, to change. It led him, unknowingly, to invergence.

That was three years ago. The man, though still in the military, is different. No longer is everything black and white. He sees the shades of grey. He notes the disgruntled citizens and military alike. He notes the fact that the Insurgence may not be all bad.

With this information, what will he do?

Will he defect?

Will he ignore?

Will he die?

Truly no one knows, but such is the way of evolution. No one knows the end-result.

Such is the way...of invergence.


End file.
